Do you want to fly high above in the sky?
by Diamond-04
Summary: Sherlock is terrified of flying. While on a plane, Mycroft thinks of a very practical solution to distract him from this problem.


"Keep still."

Mycroft was losing his patience with his brother once more. They hadn't been on the plane for an hour yet and he was getting on his nerves already; he kept wiggling and huffing and tapping his fingers on the armrest of the seat, obviously beyond nervous.

"You know I hate flying."

Sherlock's voice was controlled, but Mycroft detected a hint of fear in it. Yes, he knew Sherlock wasn't particularly fond of flying, but it was exhausting for Mycroft to keep dealing with his brother's mild phobia. He had already gone over the mechanisms of the plane, and explained a couple of times why it was completely safe –even over Sherlock's infinite 'I know-s'-, they had done his breathing exercises together, they even held hands during the slightest bit of turbulence. Mycroft's reckoned his left hand would not be the same for a while.

"She could have come to London if he wanted to see us, I don't get why it is us that have to travel."

"You know she still hasn't fully recovered from her surgery."

"It was a knee surgery! And it was two months ago, she's fine!"

"Sherlock, it was a full replacement and mummy's older. Have some consideration."

Sherlock huffed once more, more distressed than angry. Mycroft really did pity him, but he was running out of ideas to calm him down.

"It's just another 40 minutes, we are already half way there."

"I don't even like Paris."

Sherlock seemed to be on the verge of tears. Mycroft sighed in resignation; he had one last idea. He then looked around; the other two passengers in first class were fast asleep, and the stewardess nowhere to be seen. It was clear to him that was a terrible idea, but on the other hand, he was certain it would work. He grabbed Sherlock by the wrist and stood up.

"Come on."

"What? Where?"

Mycroft raised his eyebrows and just stared at him for a second.

"Are you serious?"

Sherlock's voice was practically a hiss.

"We haven't done this in ages, and on a plane of all places? You are delirious!"

Mycroft bent over to whisper into Sherlock's ear.

"It'll make you feel better, I promise. Let's just try, alright?"

He lay a small kiss on his brother neck before standing up straight again. Sherlock looked a bit uncertain at first, but he soon seemed to become more comfortable with the idea. He bit his lower lip and nodded.

"Alright."

They headed swiftly to the toilet and in a flash they found themselves eagerly kissing against a cold white wall. It never took them long -unless they wanted to, of course-. After all these years they were both well aware of what they were doing; how the slightest touch would make the other moan and squirm and beg for more. They kept their shirts on this time –no time for unnecessary preparations-, but trousers and pants were discarded in a blink, their hips immediately rutting together, making their erections harder by the second. They were dead silent, but their heavy breathing could barely be contained by that moment.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes. A bit better. Just get on with it."

Mycroft gently turned Sherlock around against the wall, and began slowly rubbing himself against his backside kneading and squeezing his neck firmly. Sherlock couldn't suppress a moan of pleasure.

"Shh, bother. Just a bit longer."

"Mycroft, for Christ's sake, faster."

Sherlock took Mycroft's hand from his neck and placed it on his neglected dick. He didn't conform to his brother's languid rhythm, and started bucking his hips frantically against his hand.

"A bit eager today, are we?"

"Oh, do shut up."

As witty as Mycroft was feeling, him too started to accelerate his pace. He suddenly wished they had had time for penetration, the thought of it alone sending him to a state of sheer desire and urgency. He kept rocking against Sherlock's entrance in desperation, yearning for more friction.

Mycroft could feel the orgasm building quickly within him. With his free hand he began teasing his brother's nipples through his shirt, Sherlock's own hand immediately over his, guiding him.

"Fuck, I feel better, so much better."

Mycroft couldn't resist biting possessively on his brother's neck, the smell of his sweat, the taste of his skin driving him insane.

"Hmm, do you now?"

"Ah, yes, yes."

They wouldn't last much longer, Mycroft knew. When he heard the almost silent whimper of Sherlock coming and felt the warm spurts on his hand, it just took another second for him to reach orgasm as well.

For a minute, they stayed in that same position, trying to regain their breaths. Then, unhurriedly, began getting dressed again, small kisses exchanged in between.

Not a minute had passed since they were back on their seats when they heard the _**flight attendant's announcement.**_

_"**Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived to our destination. Thank you for flying with us. We**_ hope _**you **_enjoyed giving _**us**_ the business as much as _**we**_ enjoyed taking _**you**_ for a ride_**" **_

The car was waiting for them at the airport. Their mother was overjoyed to see them after such a long time.

"So boys, how was your flight?"

Mycroft was ready to answer it had been nice and uneventful, when Sherlock jumped in.

"Oh. It was wonderful."

Sherlock was looking outside the window, but Mycroft reckoned he was smiling. He did too.


End file.
